You Look Familiar
by Hyper4Hetalia
Summary: AU/Gakuen!Hetalia. Multi-pairing. Rating may change. Full summary inside. A new, elite school is accepting one student from every country in the world. The students have no idea, but they're all about to face love, friendship, and a psycho dictator. GerIta USUK PruCan RoChu Giripan Spamano DenNor SwissAus SuFin LietPol SeaLat, ect.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello there! Thank you very much for reading my story! I'd just like you all to know that this fanfiction will contain many pairings, and I'm going to try to distribute the love to everyone equally! Also, reviews make me suuuuper happy! They encourage me to work faster, and feedback is always appreciated!**

**Also, there's one element to this story that might be hard to grasp. Basically, the characters are existing in a world parallel to the one in Hetalia, where instead of Nations, they're ordinary humans. However, the two worlds are not completely separate from one another. In fact, the worlds are almost exactly the same, the only difference being that there is no such thing as a country personification in the world which this fanfiction takes place. Because of this, the memories from the Nations in one universe sometimes gets mixed up with the memories of the humans in the other universe.**

**Pairings you can expect: GerIta, PruCan, USUK, Spamano, Rochu, Giripan, FranLux(OC), SuFin, DenNor, SwissAus, LietPol, and maybe whatever others come to my mind later on. Also, sorry for the OC, I usually don't like them either, but he won't be in it a lot and there really isn't any canon character I pair with France ^-^**

"Ve~ Fratello, look!" Feliciano Vargas said excitedly, pulling his elder twin across the campus, his youthful face alight with excitement. "Its so beautiful! I can't believe this is actually a school!"

"Chigi, slow down, idiot!" Lovino grumbled, stumbling after him, having a hard time keeping up with the past pace.

Both twins had thick Italian accents and sun-kissed gold skin, and were fairly short and skinny (despite the amount of food they could both consume in one sitting). Their hairstyles were similar, bangs that parted in the middle of their foreheads and two particular curls that seemed to defy all odds of gravity. Feliciano's hair was a pretty auburn color, and Lovino's only a shade or two darker; and they each had a pair of identical molten gold eyes.

"Don't go rushing ahead, Feli." their grandfather bellowed from behind them, laughing loudly. "Your grandpa's getting too old to keep up with you!"

"I'm sorry, grandpa!" Feliciano giggled as he called over his shoulder, still marching ahead at a brisk pace. "I can't help it! I'm so exci-mph!" he came to a sudden halt, having plowed into someone when not looking, his face pressing into a broad, muscular chest. "Oh, excuse me! I didn't see you stan.." as he tilted his head back to examine the stranger, he felt all the breath leave his body, his words dying on his lips.

A pair of the most beautiful sky-blue eyes he had ever seen gazed down at him, belonging to an equally as perfect face with unblemished porcelain skin and a carefully stoic expression. Feliciano wasn't sure why, but everything about him, to the slicked-back yellow-blonde hair, to the slope of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, everything about this man seemed familiar.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Lovino snapped at the blonde, his temper flaring as quickly as usual. "You almost mowed down my fratello!"

The blonde- who had been staring at Feliciano with the same kind of puzzled gaze -tore his eyes away to study the second, angrier Italian. "I believe he was the one who ran into _me_," he pointed out, his voice deep and German-accented. Feliciano noted that the stern tone may come across as scary to some people, but he wasn't swayed; actually, upon first sight, the little Italian had taken a strong liking to this big, handsome German.

"Ve~ he's right, fratello! I did run into him!" Feliciano chimed in before his brother could get angry again. He reached out, tugging excitedly on the blonde's arm. "Hey hey, Mr. German, what's your name? Mine's Feliciano Vargas! And you've already met my brother Lovino." he giggled.

The blonde blushed, awkwardly retracting his arm from the bubbly stranger. "Ludwig." he said, squaring his broad shoulders. "Ludwig Beilschmidt. You know, the name Vargas sounds familiar; aren't you.." he trailed off and pulled a folded piece of paper from his uniform pants, opening it and glancing down at what appeared to be a class schedule. "Feliciano, right? I think we're roommates. At least, that's what it says here.."

Feliciano's eyes lit up. "Really!" he chirped. "That's magnifico! What a coincidence, the first person I meet is my new roommate!"

Ludwig didn't seem nearly as thrilled, but a loud, rasping 'Keseseses' saved him from having to reply.

"What to we have here, Luddy?" another german-accented boy came up behind the blonde, slinging an arm around Ludwig's broad shoulders. He was tall and thin, though was muscular in his arms and chest. His skin was the pure, unblemished color of snow and his hair a frosted silvery color. He had a handsome face, though his nose and chin were slightly pointed. Most striking of all were his eyes, a blazing scarlet brighter than rubies or blood. "Found some new friends?"

"Ve~ cool!" Feliciano piped up, looking up at the newcomer with wide, excited eyes. "Are you an albino? Your eyes are so weird but kind of pretty! What's you're name? Mine's Feliciano!"

The second boy gave him an amused-looking smirk, his red eyes twinkling. "Well aren't you a little cutie," he purred in a raspy-sounding voice. "The name's Gilbert, Luddy's awesome older brother!"

"Great, another sausage-sucking German." Lovino grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Hey!" Gilbert looked offended. "I'm no German, I'm Prussian!"

The two Italians tilted their heads in mutual confusion, giving the albino odd looks.

"Bruder," Ludwig said with an impatient sounding sigh. "You weren't even alive when Prussia was a country, and you've lived in Germany your entire life."

Gilbert waved off his brother's argument. "But we live in _Berlin_, which used to be part of Prussia!" he said matter-of-factly, rolling his eyes. "And we have relatives who were Prussian! Right Vati?" he turned his head, calling to the man that was slowly approaching them. He resembled Ludwig in every way, though his hair was long, falling a few inches past his shoulders.

"Ja," the man said calmly. "We can trace our family's ancestry back to even ancient Germanic times."

"Whoa, so cool!" Feliciano cooed, gold eyes lighting up. "Grandpa says fratello and I are descendants from Romulus and Remus!"

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" the affectionately nicknamed Grandpa 'Rome' chuckled, coming to stand behind his grandsons and resting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Have you made some new friends already, Feli?"

"Yes!" the auburn-haired boy beamed. "Grandpa, this is Gilbert and Ludwig! Ludwig and I are going to be roommates! Oh, and that's their Vati, whatever that is!"

"Vati means 'daddy'." Gilbert chimed in helpfully.

Grandpa Rome smiled at the three Germans, until his eyes locked with Gilbert and Ludwig's 'Vati'. Rome's expression visibly deflated, and strangely, Feliciano thought he looked a little betrayed, or as though the man had done something to upset him. The other man, in turn, also had a strange look in his eyes, but with the rest of his expression being so stoic, Feliciano couldn't be sure what it was.

After a moment, Grandpa Rome seemed to regain his composure. "Come on, boys." he said, shaking his head as though to snap himself out of a daze. "Lets go find your rooms." he lead them a little too quickly away, though kept glancing over his shoulder, each time locking eyes with the oldest German man, who didn't stop watching until the three Italians were completely out of sight.

.

Gilbert seized the opportunity to sneak away while Vati was distracted watching the Italians retreat, quickly dashing toward the other side of the grounds. He ducked behind a tree, out of the view of the crowd, and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placing one between his lips and lighting it, eagerly taking a long dreg of the gray smoke. His body immediately relaxed and he melted contently against the wall, eyes closing. This was nice; he had been needing a cigaret badly for a few hours now, but he couldn't smoke around Vati (he would kill Gilbert if he knew of his bad habit), or on the plane ride over. He had to applaud himself, though- it hadn't been easy getting them past airport security.

"Ow! M-Maple, that really hurt.."

Gilbert cracked open an eyelid, confused. The voice had come from the other side of the school. It was high and soft, with an accent that was difficult to place; it even took Gilbert a few moments to realize it was male.

"Shut up, American bastard!"

Smack!

A startled yelp. "O-ow! B-but I'm not American..!"

Smack!

"I said shut up!"

Smack!

"B-But I swear, I'm C-Canadian..!"

Smack!

"You're really asking for it, blondie!"

Smack!

"P-Please, stop!" the frightened, soft voice was starting to catch, and at this point Gilbert could hear quiet sniffles and crying.

Gilbert dashed around the corner, unable to listen any longer. "Hey!" he shouted, scarlet eyes narrowing at the sight before him. There were two boys, standing not far away from him, each of them looking at him in mutual surprise. The one had dark skin and eyes, his short black dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail. His fist was raised and his bushy eyebrows furrowed; Gilbert noticed that he was relatively chubby, though he could tell that a punch from that guy would probably hurt, due to the muscle in his hairy arms. All together he was a rather unattractive person- the complete opposite to the boy pinned and cowering against the wall.

Gilbert had never seen anyone, man or woman, more beautiful. This boy had flawless, creme-colored skin and was built like a girl (minus the breasts), with long, slender legs and arms and delicate curves. His hair was a beautiful, honey-gold color that shone brightly in the sunlight and curled delicately around his chin and neck; he even had one thin piece of hair that protruded dramatically from his bangs and bounced cutely in front of his face. His eyes were stunning, a unique blue-violet color Gilbert had never seen on a person before, set behind long, dark lashed and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. His cheeks were red where he had been hit, and Gilbert couldn't get enough of the way this boy was looking at him like he was some kind of knight in shining armor.

"Who the hell are you, pasty-face?" the dark-skinned boy demanded, glaring. "I'm in the middle of something right now."

"The hell you are." Gilbert said, spitting his cigaret in the grass and stomping it out. "Why don't you try picking on someone your own size?" he asked conversationally. "I'll call the cast of _Biggest Loser _and see if any of them are in the mood for a fight."

The cute blonde dared a soft giggle, then quickly clapped a hand over his mouth when his attacker shot him a warning glare.

"Was that a fat joke?" he demanded, taking a step toward the albino.

Gilbert laughed. He really loved pissing people off. "Lets just say, with a little less hair and a wax, I might have mistaken you for Fat Albert."

The blonde let out another little bubble of laughter, a sound that was starting to give Gilbert a strange sort of high he couldn't explain, that made his heart hammer and his skin feel hot.

The dark-skinned boy's eyes narrowed in anger and he bellowed out some kind of strange war cry, charging Gilbert with murderous intent. Gilbert only laughed again and easily side-stepped him, grabbing the other boys arm and he staggered past and twisting it behind his back, until the attacker cried out in pain. Gilbert kicked him in the back of the knees, causing him to fall forward onto his face, then propped his foot up on the back of his neck, keeping him pinned.

The blonde watched the entire thing in amazement, his eyes round and enormous behind his glasses.

Gilbert grinned and winked at him, heart jumping delightedly in his chest as the other boy blushed and offered a shy smile in return. "So," he said airily, glancing down at the boy beneath shoe. "I don't think I need to tell you to keep your hands to yourself from now on, do I?"

Immediately the other boy shook his head.

"Good." Gilbert nodded, looking satisfied as he let him up. "Run along now."

The dark-skinned boy glared, dusted himself off, the turned and ran to join the rest of the students at the front of the school.

"Th-thank you." that quiet, soft voice from before piped up shyly, coming from the mouth of the beautiful blonde. His eyes were bright with awe. "No one has ever stood up for me like that. You're really strong. I don't even know why that guy was attacking me. He said something about Americans, but I'm Canadian. Well, my brother Alfred is American, and we look a lot alike because we're twins, but that's a long story. And.. oh maple, now I'm rambling." He bit his lip and gave a nervous laugh; Gilbert got the sense that he wasn't used to talking to people a lot. "A-Anyway, my name is Matthew. Matthew Williams."

Gilbert grinned and took a few steps closer to him, shaking his hand. "Hi Matthew." he grinned, tossing silvery hair out of his eyes. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Beilschmidt?" Matthew repeated thoughtfully, smiling a little. "Is that German?"

Gilbert groaned, shaking his head. "Its _Prussian,_ verdammt, why can't anyone get it straight?" he muttered in exasperation.

"Whatever you say, Gil." Matthew giggled again, and this time Gilbert was sure his heart would stop.

.

"Oh, bloody _hell_ no."

Arthur Kirkland stood in the doorway of his new dorm room, thick eyebrow furrowed over startling emerald eyes, fist clenched so tightly around the handle of his suitcase that it was a surprise it didn't snap.

A tall, handsome boy stood on one of the beds, tacking a ridiculously large American flag to the wall. The rest of the walls were covered in posters of everything imaginable, from rock bands to talking cartoon sponges to girls in bikinis to college football teams; even an Uncle Sam 'I WANT YOU' poster, with the words 'in my pants' scribbled beneath it in black sharpie.

"What?" the boy blinked innocently back at Arthur, tilting his head to the side. "You don't like it? I think everything looks pretty good so far."

"_So far?_" Arthur repeated incredulously. "You've already covered all the walls!"

"Well there's still the ceiling.. I bought these really cool glow-in-the-dark stick-on stars to put up there..."

"Oh no you don't!" Arthur said quickly, shaking his head. "Those things never work, anyway!" he stalked forward, reaching for one of the posters. "I'm taking these down." he pulled on the paper, scowling when it didn't budge. "Bullocks, what did you use to put these on here!"

"Uh.. this stuff." his roommate shrugged, picking up a bottle and tossing it to Alfred.

The Brit caught it and glanced down at the label, groaning loudly. "You idiot, this is rubber cement! These damn things will never come down!"

The American's face lit up. "Yay!" he cheered.

Arthur rolled his eyes, collapsing onto the bed the other hadn't just been standing on in defeat. "This is just great." he grumbled. "What's your name, wanker?"

"Alfred F. Jones! What's a wanker?"

"Never your mind!"

"Okay." Alfred laughed, unfazed, shaking some dirty-blonde hair out of his brilliant blue eyes. "What's _your_ name, 'wanker'?"

"Now don't you go saying it!" Arthur huffed, shooting him a glare. "Its Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred laughed delightedly, sitting down on the edge of the unoccupied bed. "Do all British people introduce themselves that way?" he asked conversationally.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you going on about?" he demanded.

Alfred just grinned. "Bond." he said. "James Bond."

Arthur glared at him for a long moment. _You've got to be kidding me. _He thought in bewilderment, then snatched up a pillow and threw it at Alfred's face. "Wanker!"

"Ahahahaha! You're a Wanker too, Artie!"

"D-Dammit, don't call me that!"


	2. Chapter 2

"There!" the boy stepped back to examine his handy work, grinning from ear to ear, his viridian eyes twinkling with unrestrained joy. A picture frame was mounted on the wall, containing an image of wide, blue-gray dawn skies, golden fields and his family's dew-dusted tomato plants stretching out as far as the eyes could see. "Its just like taking home with me!"

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was the son of one of the wealthiest families in Spain; he had good grades, even better looks, and he loved his country and his home. However, he had practically jumped at chance to come to this school in a foreign place, to study with students from almost two hundred countries across the globe. There were reasons for his eagerness to get away, reasons he'd rather not think about; he didn't want to spoil his good mood!

The Spaniard sank down onto the edge of one of the room's occupying beds that he had decided to claim for himself, running a hand through his chocolate brown curls. "I wonder what my roommate will be like," he pondered aloud to himself, swinging his legs slowly back and forth. He wondered where the person would be from, what kind of places and people he had seen, what languages he spoke. "Whoever he is, I hope he's nice!"

"Dammit, old man, stop acting like a freaking mother hen and leave me the fuck alone!" the door burst open and hit the adjacent wall with a loud bang, causing Antonio to fall forward off the bed with a loud yelp. He jumped to his feet in time to see the room's most recent occupant slamming the door in the face of a rather stunned, older gentleman in the hall.

The new boy pivoted on his heel to face Antonio, and in the first single second Antonio saw his face, his entire world crumbled, exploded and built itself back up again, everything that had once mattered most now insignificant to this face, this boy standing right in front of him. How had Antonio stood, when he had never seen God's greatest gift of beauty to humanity before now? How could he ever find joy in music again, when surely nothing was more captivating, more melodious than this voice, this lilting Italian accent that washed over him, overwhelmed him, was talking right at him…

Antonio blinked himself out of his intense daze, noticing that the sound had stopped flowing over the other boy's mouth and his beautiful lips were now drawn into the most endearing scowl. "Huh, wait, what?" the Spaniard stammered quickly, still half-lost in his reverie. Slender eyebrows tilted angrily inward, golden eyes like something out of a fairy tale flashed and narrowed irritably.

"_I said_," the boy's words were practically snarled through his teeth, but Antonio was oblivious to the fact that he was only making his anger worse. "Who the hell are you looking at?"

Antonio bit his lip, trying uselessly to hold back a brilliant, dazzling smile. "Who, me? Well, that's a silly question! You, of course! You are the only other person in this room!" a sudden revelation hit him like a metaphorical frying pan in the face. "¡Dios mío! You must be my roommate! I can't believe I haven't introduced myself; lo siento, how rude of me!" he leaned forward and grasped the shorter boy's hands, positively beaming by this point. "My name is Antonio! What's yours!"

For a moment the boy just stared, a vague blush spreading upon his cheeks before one of his eyes gave the smallest of twitches and he shoved Antonio backward, that irresistible scowl of his more prominent than ever. "God, were you dropped on your head as a baby!" he snapped, obviously not used to anyone other than he brother and grandfather attempting to invade his personal space.. anyone else who dared to try had not lived to tell the tale.

Antonio blinked quickly at him several times and laughed before nodding cheerfully. "Seven times, actually! Why do you ask?"

His eye twitched again, and he resisted the urge to swat his own forehead in exasperation. _Is this guy for real?_ He thought incredulously to himself. _Out of every fucking person in this school, how come I get stuck with the one whose __**exactly**__ like my stupid brother! _"Never mind, idiot." He growled, stalking over to the untouched bed and throwing his suitcase down on top of it. "My name is Lovino, if you have to know."

Antonio squealed, nearly making the Italian jump. "¡Qué lindo!" he exclaimed. "Lovi~ How cute!"

What. The. Hell. The 'vague' blush from before was tomato-red now, reaching all the way from Lovino's collarbone to his forehead and everything in between. Did this dumb Spaniard- another _MALE_ -just call him fucking _cute_!

"What is.. did you just.. what are you.." After living with Feliciano his entire life, Lovino had thought he was immune to people who were adorably dumb beyond hope to the point of being irritating… clearly he had been wrong. "… Did you just call me cute?"

"Si!" Antonio practically danced forward, effectively 'glomping' his new roommate, holding him in a warm but somehow impossible-to-escape-from embrace that Houdini himself wouldn't have been able to get out of. Lovino kicked and swore and wiggled to get away, but Antonio was unaffected; actually.. it didn't even seem like he had noticed.

"You're really cute, Lovi! Just like a tiny tomato, especially with your face all red like that!" Antonio continued, absently petting the Italian's dark auburn hair. "It makes me want to eat you up!" And then his thumb snagged on the one particular curl that stood straight up from Lovino's scalp.

And much _unlike_ a metaphorical frying pan, when Lovino's first made contact with Antonio's groin half a second later, it hurt very, very much.

.

"Finally!" the boy exclaimed, bent over and panting with his hands on his knees by the time he located his room number, after scanning rows upon rows of identical-looking doors in seemingly endless hallways. "Why is this school so large? Its not like there's _that_ many students!"

He drew himself up, rolling back the too-long sleeves of his white uniform sweater once he had caught his breath. Despite his complaining, he was happy to be given the chance to attend this elite school; he hadn't had any friends at his last one, and the teachers were always telling him to cut his long hair. He hoped he wouldn't have the same issues here.

Retrieving the key from his pocket, he opened the door.

Yao wasn't necessarily surprised to find his roommate had already made himself at home (after all, it had taken Yao some time to find the room) by the time he arrived; rather there were several other factors that caused him to let out a soft gasp as soon as he saw what was on the other side of the door.

For one, this guy was _huge_, his pale hair easily coming close to brushing the ceiling. Second were his eyes, a hauntingly beautiful lavender color Yao had never thought humanly possible. Lastly, he was… finger-painting? Already one of the walls was almost completely cover in strokes of gold, brown and green. Yao might have been angry about the vandalism, if it wasn't surprisingly good. His roommate had painted an entire field of sunflowers, and Yao couldn't help but like the way it brightened up the plain room.

"You're very good.. aru." Yao spoke up shyly, announcing his presence in the room for the first time.

His roommate turned his head quickly in surprise, giving Yao a full view of his face. He was shockingly attractive, his messy platinum hair obscuring his forehead and framing his high cheekbones. His nose was a little out of proportion with the rest of his face, but in a way Yao found it charming. Even though it was warm, he was wearing a long scarf that covered his chin and half his mouth.

Those stunning lavender eyes lit up and the stranger flashed a huge smile. "How nice! You like sunflowers too, da? They are my favorite!" he extended a large hand, fingers still coated in paint. "My name is Ivan, it is pleasure to meet you!"

Yao hesitated, biting his lip to contain a smile; Ivan's accent was thick, though his voice was surprisingly soft and sweet for someone so intimidating-looking. That aside, is fingers were nearly dripping with paint, and Yao didn't want to stain his new sweater. So instead he wrapped his fingers around Ivan's only clean digit, shocked that they could all fit comfortably around just one of his thumbs. They shook awkwardly like that, Yao blushing and Ivan still beaming.

"I'm Yao," he introduced himself, slowly releasing the thumb.

"Yao," Ivan repeated thoughtfully, rocking back on his heels and studying his face with a curious expression. "That sounds like a boy's name!" he said finally, with a weird sort of laugh that sounded like "Kol Kol".

Yao gave him an odd look, starting to question his new roommate's sanity, or lack thereof. "That's because it _is_ a boy's name." he said obviously.

Ivan stopped laughing, giving Yao a sympathetic look. "I am sorry, do you get teased a lot?"

Yao stared at him blankly. "… Huh?"

"I will not tease you!" Ivan continued cheerfully, as though he hadn't heard him, patting Yao's slight shoulders with a monstrous hand. "Is cute sometimes, when girls have boy names!"

Yao's brain finally caught up with him, and immediately he felt his skin flush with anger and embarrassment. "I am not a girl, aru!" he exclaimed. God, not this _again_!

Now it was Ivan's turn to look shocked. "What? ... Are you sure?"

"Quite sure!" he said, cheeks boiling. "How could you even think that, aru! Boys and girls can't share dorms!"

"I just thought you might have gotten lost," Ivan said sadly. "And you are so beautiful, just like a girl…"

Now Yao was blushing for a different reason. Had this _guy_ really just called him _beautiful?_

"Are… you a homosexual?" Yao asked flatly.

"Da!" Ivan replied cheerfully. "I like the penises very much!"

"Um.." if possible, Yao's face felt even hotter. How was he supposed to respond to something like that?

"Which makes this my lucky day," Ivan's lavender eyes now held an unsettling gleam. "Because I have such a lovely roommate to share my bed with."

Yao's eyes widened and he took a step back. "Th-there's two beds, a-aru." He pointed out, his heart pounding in his ears. Okay, this wasn't the first time he had been hit on by a guy, but all the other times as soon as Yao pointed out he wasn't female, he would receive an awkward apology and be left alone. But Ivan actually _liked_ boys. His towering, slightly creepy roommate who could easily over-power and take advantage of him was _gay_.

"We will push them together~" Ivan decided easily. "I like to cuddle! But not with my half-sister Natalia.. she tries to grab me in strange places." He looked a little troubled by this, then brightened again. "Of course, if it was Yao I wouldn't complain."

Yao honestly had no idea what to think at that point; there had to be something seriously wrong with Ivan (and by the sound of it, the rest of his family as well. "I-I would do no such thing!" he said, completely aghast. "I am _not_ gay, and therefore have no interest in your 'strange places', and will be very content never having to come in contact with them! Aru."

"Oh Yao," Ivan laughed cheerfully, unfazed. He looked down at him with blazing lavender eyes, and though his tone was cheerful, Yao felt a terrified chill run up his spine. "You think I won't get what I want, how cute!" he leaned in close, trapping Yao between himself and the wall, his smile eerily pleasant. "You will see very soon, Ivan Braginski always gets what he wants."

.

"I'm sorry, but you can't bring that cat inside the school; there's no pets allowed."

"But.. he just keeps following me." A soft voice said. "What else am I suppose to do?"

"I don't know, just get rid of it!"

Kiku Honda peered around a corner, ears pricked in curiosity. He saw who he assumed was a teacher, but it was the young man he spoke with who really drew his attention. He was breath-taking, like nothing Kiku had ever seen. His skin was perfectly tanned, a warm bronze color that could only be obtained through many hours in the sun. His chocolate-brown hair was messy and longer in the front than in the back, curling delicately around his jaw. His green eyes were as bright as emeralds, partially obscured under long, thick lashes.

Kiku's first thought was: _I have to draw him!_

He crept forward silently, wanting a better look at his new muse. He rummaged in the messenger bag slung over his shoulder, groping for his camera. He'd rather not work from a photograph, but he would be too shy to ever ask the boy to model for him.

Kiku withdrew the camera, an expensive Nikon he had gotten for his last birthday. He switched it on, focusing the lens on the beautiful boy. He was still talking to the teacher, arguing in that soft voice of his. He held a cat in his arms, a beautiful storm-gray tom with molten gold eyes and long white whiskers. The cat locked eyes with Kiku and yowled, alerting the boy that held him.

The dark-haired boy turned his head, looking at Kiku curiously, who stood frozen with his camera pointed right at him. The teacher just rolled his eyes, poking the boy in the chest to get his attention again. "I don't want to see that cat again." He warned, stalking off. The other boy didn't seem to hear him; he was still gazing at Kiku with inquisitive green eyes.

Kiku bit his bottom lip, not sure what to say. The boy was just staring at him, not saying anything. Finally, after several long minutes of silence, he spoke. "Ooh, I see." He nodded, stepping toward Kiku. "You wanted to take a picture of that cat, right? He is pretty."

"Oh, I.. yes." Kiku nodded, seeing his way out of an awkward situation and taking it. "I did want to take a picture of your kitty." Well, he _did_ like cats. "Uhm, why don't you pose with it?" _That way I can still get a picture of you,_ He thought slyly to himself.

The green-eyed boy shrugged, adjusting the feline in his arms and holding it closer to his chest. The cat immediately began to purr, stretching its neck and rubbing its face affectionately against the boy's cheek. Kiku quickly snapped the picture, unable to help a small smile. It was just too cute.

"So, what's your name?" the boy asked as Kiku switched off the camera and stuffed it into his bag.

"Kiku." He responded and made a movement to bow, then- remembering he was speaking to a foreigner –hesitantly extended his hand for a shake.

The boy smiled, taking his hand and shaking it briefly. "My name is Heracles."

_A beautiful name, too, _Kiku thought wistfully. _It suits him._

"So Kiku, I have a favor to ask you." The boy continued, lowering his voice, his demeanor changing. "Will you help me smuggle this cat into the school?"

.

**A/N:**

Oh God. Yeah, this chapter sucks, I'll be the first to admit it. But, its 4:04 am and I'm SO tired, so if there are any spelling/grammar issues I'll go back and fix them later.

I have good news, though! Even though my own laptop is still broken, since its summer I should be able to update much faster (by kidnapping my mom's computer!) so updates should be a lot more frequent!

Please review and tell me what you think so far!

I would love to hear what you guys think! What have been your favorite couples to read so far? Encouragement= faster updates! And if you're too lazy to come up with a review, just review saying 'RUBBER DUCKS STOLE MY MEATLOAF!' so I at least know people are reading this, or anything crazy/funny you guys can think of.

.


	3. Chapter 3

"I mean, sure, I set a few peoples' hair on fire; and I'll admit, that dance move _was_ a little obscene, but was that any reason to kick me out?"

He would need a gun.

"But, at least the old lady thought it was funny! Ah, after I gave her back her teeth, that is."

A shovel, too. And a place to hide the body.

"And_ man_ was I sore in the morning! I don't know what they're putting in those kids' food, but those orphans sure could pack a punch."

But he couldn't do it here.. there were too many witnesses.

"And that my friend, is why you should _never_ go to the opera on a Tuesday. No matter how many times the chilidogs try to convince you it's a good idea."

Lukas Bondvik blinked slowly and glanced up at the Dane who had quite literally been talking his ear off for the past half hour. "… Are you finally done?" he asked in a monotone voice, his dark blue-violet eyes gleaming with poorly disguised agitation underneath a veil of ash-blonde lashes.

The Dane was grinning broadly at him, an annoying, idiotic smile that for some reason Lukas found _incredibly familiar_. He knew he had never met him before, though; Lukas would surely remember meeting someone so obviously mentally unstable. "Yup! Say, you're really cute!" he jabbed Lukas's cheek with his pointer finger, much like a man stoking the fire of his own funeral pyre. Honestly, was it healthy for a person to be this stupid? "What's your name again?"

"_Lukas_," the Norwegian nearly growled in exasperation, increasing his stride in an attempt to have the Dane fall behind. "I only told you that the first four times you asked."

"Ooooh, right! I remember now!" the Dane said, obviously lying. He reached up with one hand, running his fingers through his pale blonde hair. Really.. even this boy's _hair_ was absurd. It stuck up from his scalp and was angled toward one side in an apparently natural way, with no hair gel or product of any kind in it that Lukas could see. "Well, I'm Mathias by the way!"

Lukas stopped short in his tracks and the Dane crashed into him, the two tumbling to the floor. Surprisingly, Lukas barely noticed, he felt… frozen.

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry." Mathias said, pushing himself up and scrambling back a few feet. He tilted his head to the side when the Norwegian didn't respond. "Uhm, dude?" he poked his side experimentally. "You okay?"

Lukas blinked slowly, then quickly batted away the hand insistently poking his ribcage. "Cut it out!" he snapped. What was this overwhelming feeling? It felt almost like déjà vu.. and it made his head hurt. He stared at Mathias for a long moment. This guy.. something about him was incredibly, irritatingly familiar.

"I.. need to think." Lukas said suddenly, raising to his feet and walking quickly away. This was definitely suspicious; he would need to consult the Gods….

.

"M'wife."

Now, Tino knew not to judge a book by its cover, but really, he was pretty sure he was about to get molested. Or murdered… or both.

For the past forty-five minutes he had been wandering around the seemingly endless school hallways, searching for his room. He hadn't noticed at first, but he was being followed by what could only be described as a giant.

This freakishly tall boy, with broad shoulder, sandy blonde hair and stern cobalt eyes set behind rectangle glasses followed him at a careful distance, through every twist and turn the hallways had to offer. Finally, when Tino had summoned up enough courage to turn around and confront the giant, all he had given to explain himself was: "M'wife."

His accent was thick, his low and muffled through lips and an intimidating expression that never seemed to change. There was no arguing that the giant was difficult to understand, so, perhaps Tino hadn't heard him correctly.

"Your.. wife?" the Finn repeated slowly, his pale eyebrows creasing. That definitely couldn't be right….

The giant nodded again, his eyes boring into Tino. God he was scary….

"I'm, uh, not really sure what you mean.." Tino tried to keep his voice from squeaking. He subconsciously took a few steps back, his gaze darting around for any easily accessible exits. Of course, there were none. _Just my luck._ He thought miserably to himself._Nothing to even defend myself with… God I'm going to get murdered. And I'm still a virgin! I don't want to die a virgin, that's so pathetic. And I never learned how to cartwheel, or acquired a taste for sushi… dear lord, I never even 'caught 'em all'! Please God, don't let me die, I have so much I still need to do._

While Tino was dwelling on how he had pretty much wasted the last eighteen years of his life, the giant spoke again. "I w'nt yah teh be muh w'fe." He said loudly and slowly.

_Oh, and if you let me live, I promise I'll do more public service, and donate to chari- wait… _Tino's inner ramblings ceased immediately when the other boy's words registered with him. Slowly he moved his mouth, trying to form some kind of coherent response. Really, what did one stay when a complete stranger- not to mention another _male_ –announced an interest in making you their woman? If you were smart, it may be something like 'GTFO, mutha-fuckah' but let's face it: Tino Väinämöinen wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box.

Apparently, the most brilliant response he could come up with at that time was, "Well, you see, I'm a boy, so, technically that's a little impossible." He gave a nervous laugh. "Um, but.. thanks for the offer?"

The giant stared at him blankly, then took another step forward. "M'wife." He said again.

Tino's jaw nearly dropped. Hadn't this guy heard him? And why was he getting closer!

"U-Um, like I said, th-that's not really possible, y-you see,"

The giant was now mere inches from him, looming over him, glowering down at the poor, terrified Finn over the rectangular frames of his glass. "L'ke boys." He grunted. "B't yer sm'll l'ke a w'fe."

Tino's brain was struggling to keep up with what was happening. The giant was closing in on him, and all sound was drowned out under the frantic hammering of his own heart. He felt dizzy, and somewhere in the back of his mind he registered two large hands coming to rest heavily on his shoulders. In what could have been as minuscule as an instant or as endless as a lifetime, Tino was pulled forward and his lips were claimed by the giant.

By that point Tino's brain had completely stopped working. After an immeasurable amount of time he was released, and were it not for the giant's large, steady hands keeping him in place, he probably would have fallen over.

"M'wife." He heard again, and at this point he knew: it was useless to argue.

.

Francis Bonnefoy couldn't be happier. He was at a beautiful school, in a beautiful place, and everywhere he looked there were beautiful _men._ He hadn't been surprised upon receiving his acceptance letter earlier that summer; he had been flattered, yes, but not surprised. _After all, I am the most handsome, talented and all-around perfect person in France._ He thought smugly with a flip of his head. _Not to mention my _breathtaking _skills in the bedro-_

A loud, shaking sob interrupted his perverted reverie, stopping Francis completely in his tracks. The sun had begun to set, casting the schoolyard in shadow. Most of the students were inside the enormous school, trying to find their rooms before the school's nine o'clock curfew; Francis wasn't worried about that (he was bound to get in trouble soon, anyway), he wanted to explore the gardens. Of course, he hadn't expected anyone else to be out doing the same… he especially didn't expect to find someone crying. But as Francis rounded a corner of rose bushes, his eyes settled upon the most beautiful, tragic sight he had ever seen.

A boy sat with his back to the beginning of the school's enormous hedge maze, leaning against the side of an enormous, ivory marble fountain. He looked up at the sound of Francis's approach, his sky blue eyes clouded, tears clinging to long, dark lashes. He sniffed, quickly swiping a hand across his cheek to wipe away his tears, leaving a gleaming streak of red on his cheek.

Francis gasped and walked forward instinctively, kneeling in front of the boy. He took his hand, turning it over to expose the raw, bleeding cuts on his wrist, which were surrounded by scars of various ages and severity, some almost completely faded into his pale skin and others puckered and scabbed. Something about the sight of this boy inflicting pain upon himself made Francis's heart constrict painfully; he felt like he knew this boy, cared about him. There was something so familiar about him; from his short, frail-looking form; his long-lashed, impossibly large blue eyes; to his wavy, shoulder-length chocolate-brown hair with six wild curls that seemed to defy all laws of gravity.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" Francis asked in a low, soft voice.

The boy let out another soft sob, ducking his head in shame, his wide eyes alarmed. "I-I'm scared." He whimpered. Mon Dieu, even his voice was familiar, though for the life of him he couldn't place the strange accent; it wasn't unlike his own, though it also hinted of something else, like German or Dutch. "I-I don't want to be alone again."

Francis wasn't sure what he meant, but he doubted that now was a good time to ask. "Well you're not alone," he said smoothly and gently, reaching out and gently tucking a piece of the boy's soft hair behind an ear. "I'm here. What's your name?"

The boy sniffled, taking a long, calming breath. "Luca." He told him softly. "Um, vous parlez français, oui? I recognize your accent."

Francis's eyes lit up at that. "Ah, oui!" he said enthusiastically, giving his hand (which he had neglected to release) a happy squeeze. "Francis Bonnefoy at your service, mon cher! Tell me, where are you from?"

"Luxembourg." Luca said softly, biting lightly into his bottom lip. "I live close to the French border, so I visit your country often. Its very beautiful." He blushed, looking up at him shyly through his long lashes.

"Ah~ a Luxembourgian!" Francis said thoughtfully. "I believe we will get along well, mon cher! And if you think my country is beautiful, just wait until you get a look at my big, luscious co-

THE RES T OF THIS SENTENCE HAS BEEN EDITTED OUT FOR INNAPPROPRIATE CONTENT.

.

**A/N: Gah, another shitty chapter. The first time I wrote this, it was really good, but then my computer lost it **_**twice**_** and I lost the motivation to re-type it again, which explains the crappiness and the long gap between updates.**

**Okay, a few notes:**

**This was actually my first time writing DenNor and SuFin, so if they seem out of character.. well, you can imagine why.**

**Also, I decided not to put SwissAus and LietPol in this chapter because I wasn't sure if anyone really cared about them. If anyone reviews saying they want either or both of those pairings in this story, then I'll put them in the next chapter, because I don't want to disappoint anyone.**

**And, in case you all forgot, Luca is my OC for Luxembourg, a **_**really **_**small country wedged between France and Germany. It is my knowledge that they speak French and German there, and I heard that they also speak their own language called Luxembourgish, but don't hold me to it. I'm sorry to bring an OC into this, because I know that personally, other peoples' OCs in fanfictions drive me nuts, but this is my fanfiction and, well, I wanted to put him in it, because I honestly don't pair any canon characters with France. Its not like he's going to be a super main character or anything, so if he gets on your nerves it won't be too hard to ignore him.**

**Finally, if there's subjects left open in this fanfiction or don't really make much sense, I'm not trying to be a flakey author- they will be filled in and explained as the story progresses; its supposed to be a little confusing ^-^ I have to keep you guys wanting more!**

**So, please review! Reviews= faster updates and better chapters!**

**If you like it, show this story to your friends and please check out my other stories! Lets spread the Hetalia love!**

**This chapter is dedicated to =IAmTheBlackbird on deviantart, whom has given me probably the nicest review EVER on my stories. Thank you so much, deary, this chapter is for you as thanks for motivating me!**

**If any of you would like to see a (crappy) picture of Luca so you have a visual reference, check out my deviantart (*GilbertxBeilschmidt), go to my 'Art' folder in my gallery and there's a picture of him in there ^-^**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: You know what, I decided that I am gonna put SwissAus and LietPol in here. Y'know why? Because there aren't enough SwissAus shippers! Practically everyone ships either AusHun or PruAus or SwissLiech and I don't really care for any of those pairings, so I'm on a mission to convert all of you to SwissAus. If I successfully complete my mission, review telling me how you have been converted! (Btw, this is my first time writing SwissAus and LietPol so extra props to me if that happens XD)**

Vash Zwingli roamed the halls of the school, feeling too restless to turn in for the night just yet. Though his expression didn't show it, he was excited to explore the school he would call home for the next ten months. He was used to big places- back home in Switzerland, his father was the director of the famous Swiss Bank –and had lived in an extravagant mansion his entire life, but this school easily made his home look like an ant in comparison. Vash didn't understand why, he had seen the school roster and there were only about two hundred students. He wondered if the school planned on increasing their student population after this first year. Honestly, he preferred it this way; the less students there were the less he had to worry about people bothering him.

The halls were quiet and void of wandering students, so Vash didn't expect the sudden quiet, intricate melody that wafted down the hall, the unmistakable chime of piano keys reaching his ears. Curious, he followed the beautiful, swelling music through the long, wide halls, a sense of déjà vu rapidly overwhelming him. Somehow he recognized the song immediately as Norturno by Chopin, though he couldn't remember where he had ever heard it before.

The sweet, delicate melody drew Vash to a stop outside the music room, his heart racing a mile a minute. For some reason he felt as though something profound was waiting him on the other side of the door, something that conjured up a strange, unexplainable mess of feelings that he couldn't identify. His stomach felt sick and his cheeks were flushed with heat, but at the same time he felt nervous, tingling excitement coursing through his body like an electric charge through his veins.

The blonde-haired, green-eyed Swiss's hand was practically trembling as he reached for the doorknob, his fingers curling and twisting around the shockingly cool metal. He pushed the door open slowly, silently, just a crack at first as he peeked into the room, almost scared to see what was inside. The first thing he saw was an enormous grand piano, its polished surface nearly glowing in the rich tones of purple, pink and gold sunset that bathed the room through the high glass windows. Someone was seated at the bench, their fingers dancing delicately and expertly across the keys, stroking the instrument swiftly and skillfully to exact the haunting, perfect melody. Their dark brown hair seemed illuminated at the tips in hues of molten gold, a line of silver gleaming off the frames of a pair of glasses perched delicately on a narrow, noble nose.

Vash craned his neck, desperate for a closer look at this mysterious person. He leaned heavily on the door, heart racing as more of the musician's face came into view. He had a mole that was positioned beneath his mouth, closer to the right side of his face, and a strange spiral of hair that stood straight up from his cowlick and bobbed delicately with the slow movements of his shoulders and head. His eyelids had fallen to half-mast, but beneath the long, curling lashes Vash could spot the most complicated mixture of navy blue and violet. Vash, who was leaning too heavily on his left foot, suddenly slipped, the door swinging open and hitting the adjacent wall with an echoing bang, the Swiss letting out a cry of surprise. The music stopped playing immediately, Vash turning his head to see the boy at the piano bench string at him with wide, startled eyes. They simply looked at each other for a long, endless moment, and then the brunette stood up, averting his eyes quickly.

"Sorry," he said in a voice as smooth and lilting as the melody he had just been playing, and Vash could tell from the accent that he was used to speaking primarily German; judging by the piano playing as well, he had to be Austrian. "I won't play so loudly next time."

Vash simply stared at him for a moment longer, the complicated web of feelings only getting more tangled. He felt a surge of annoyance, but also a deep, secretive affection. Somehow he felt as though he had known this person his entire life, but he knew they had never met before.

"You weren't too loud," he said finally, blushing a little at having been caught spying. "I was in the hall and I heard you music; I just came to see who it was." He took a few small steps into the room, biting the inside of his cheek. "That was Nocturno by Chopin, right?"

The Austrian's lovely eyes immediately lit up and he looked impressed. "Yes, it was. Are you a fan of his work?" He asked.

"Seems like it," Vash said with a shrug, though he couldn't remember ever hearing of the composure. So how had he known what song he was playing? "Um, I'm Vash, by the way."

"I'm Roderich," The brunette replied automatically, with a practiced politeness. By this and the way he stood straight with his shoulders squared, one foot slightly crossed over the other and his chin lifted, Vash could tell he came from money and breeding as well. "Its nice to meet you, Vash."

Vash nodded, looking down and brushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. He searched for something to say, but Roderich beat him to it. "Its late." The Austrian added. "Curfew is soon and its best we return to our rooms before then."

"Uh, yeah." The blonde agreed, taking an unconscious step backward, sticking his hand out behind him to grope blindly for the doorknob. For some reason he couldn't look away from Roderich's face, but at the same time he wanted to sprint out the door and never meet the boy who gave him all of these strange feelings again.

Roderich smiled almost unsurely at the skittish way the Swiss was behaving, the tiny mole on his chin moving with his lips. "Would you like to maybe walk back together?" He offered, not sure if Vash was trying to run away from him; he looked a little scared. He hoped he hadn't somehow come off the wrong way; Vash had good taste in music and seemed intelligent. Roderich wasn't good at making friends but maybe since they had similar interests they could at least be acquainted.

Vash swallowed nervously at the suggestion, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. His heart was racing a million miles a minute, and his head felt clouded and unnaturally heavy. His hand found the doorknob and he gripped it desperately for support, his fingers- suddenly clammy and cold from sweat –slipping over the stainless steel. What was going on? What was happening to him? He couldn't breathe… couldn't open his mouth to tell Roderich that something was very, very wrong and that he needed to get help.

Luckily, the brunette seemed to piece it together rather quickly when Vash slumped against the doorframe, his lips trembling silently. Roderich's concerned expression and pleas to tell him what was wrong were suddenly drowned out by a rush of blurry images and muffled words in Vash's mind. He saw the shape of two children walking along a dirt road, one carrying the other on his back, everything washed out in hues of gold and pink because of the setting sun.

The one child who was carrying the other was saying something in an almost scolding way, though judging by their size they had to be close in age. Everything looked as though it had been smudged, colors and shapes blurring together and making it difficult to see. He could tell that there was a blonde and a brunette, but any other details were lost to him in a smear of dramatic shadows and golds.

"Vash?... Vash!?" It was odd, hard to wrap his head around, but somehow Vash could see both Roderich's kneeling over him and the children on the worn dirt rode at the same time, could hear Roderich's frantic voice and the muffled sounds of the children's exchange all at once.

A cool hand brushed his cheek, suddenly anchoring Vash to reality. The vision was gone as though it had been swept away on a rush of cold air, but when his eyes tried to focus on Roderich's worried expression, everything was turning black around the edges.

"Austria…" The word left his lips as though someone else had said them, and for a moment he saw what looked like a flash of recognition in Roderich's dark violet eyes before quickly being replaced by confusion.

After that, Vash fainted.

.

"Ah, finally!" Toris Laurinaitis dropped his over-stuffed duffle bag on the floor, leaning heavily on the handle of his suitcase as he fished through his pockets for the key to his dorm. From end of the hall, a camera swiveled around and focused on him, making him shift uncomfortably. The school had a lot of cameras, Toris had noticed; it made him uneasy, like he was always being watched.

The Lithuanian brushed aside his worries with an awkward laugh, pushing a long piece of chestnut-brown hair out of his slate-blue eyes. He was such a scardy-cat- if anything the cameras should make him feel safe; they meant that the school had a good security system. But like his mother had always told him, Toris had been afraid of his own shadow since he was a baby. He doubted that was going to change anytime soon, no matter how many times he talked himself out of his irrational fears.

He located the key in his pocket, fumbling to get the steel teeth through the lock. The camera lense was burrowing into the back of his neck, sending nervous tremors down his spine. To his relief, the key slid all the way in and the doorknob turned, the door swinging inward to reveal an explosion of pink.

….. Wait, pink?

Toris had to blink rapidly to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness. Someone had hung hot pink curtains on the room's only window, had draped matching powder-pink comforters over each of the beds. A faerie-pink, fluffy rug was spread out on the floor, matching the canopies suspended over the beds. A glimmering hot pink and what looked shockingly like real crystal hung from the center of the ceiling, casting glimmering fragments of light over the entire room.

And, in the middle of it all, stood the most beautiful girl Toris had ever seen. Her straight blonde hair went to her shoulders, her eyes glimmered with the brightness and intensity of emeralds. She had to be the exact height as Toris himself, with a similar, delicate build; long, graceful legs protruding from her sinfully short skirt. She smiled stunningly at him, her lip glossed-lips stretching over a set of perfect, bleach-white teeth.

And then she spoke, "'Sup broski!? Like what I did to the room? Sweet, right?" in the most masculine voice Toris had ever heard come out of a female body.

The poor Lithuanian nearly stumbled backward in shock. It took him seconds to recover, but now that he looked closer, there was no definition to the 'girl's' chest, and 'she' lacked a certain curvature of 'her' hips and facial structure that all females had.

So 'she' wasn't a female at all. Instead it seemed that Toris's new roommate was in fact just a very pretty, pink-obsessed, cross-dressing boy.

Toris wasn't sure how to handle this information, instead deciding to answer the strange boy's question as though everything were perfectly normal. "Um, its very, uh… pink." He said lamely, picking up his duffle bag and suitcase and dragging them into the room, slowly and unsurely closing the door behind him.

"I know, right!?" The blonde beamed, perching himself on the edge of a pink, lacy bed, crossing one slender leg over the other, tossing his hair over a shoulder. "I'm Feliks, by the way- remember that. Feliks Łukasiewics; you'll see that name up in lights someday!"

Somehow Toris could believe it. "Uh, okay." He agreed. "I'm Toris."

"Boo!" Feliks said suddenly, sticking out his tongue so fast that the brunette let out a cry of surprise and stumbled back a few steps. "What a boring name! I think I'll call you Liet instead! You're from Lithuania, right? I can tell by your accent. Plus you have that wide-eyed, nervous look every Lithuanian has."

Toris felt a blush fill his cheeks, turning his face away shyly. "Th-that wasn't very nice," he pointed out, biting the inside of his bottom lip.

"Its not a bad thing," Feliks continued, swinging his legs back and forth, kicking off his heels (which looked suspiciously like Prada) and admiring the way the pink polish on his toenails glittered. "You're actually kind of cute."

Toris's cheeks heated up ever more and he ducked his head, hiding his embarrassed, flustered expression underneath a veil of his long hair. "You really think so?" No one had ever told him that before. Well, his mother had, but no one who wasn't related to him. Toris got picked on a lot by the other males at his school, while the girls completely ignored him. He had always figured that he was pretty average, certainly nothing special, and that his mother was simply being nice. But Feliks didn't seem like the kind of person to lie just to be nice.

"Like, totally." The blonde nodded, producing a lollipop from the hem of his skirt and peeling off the wrapper, popping the green apple flavored candy between his lips. "You're sense of fashion needs a lot of work, though. Like, those are so totally ten millionbagillion seasons ago."

Toris looked down at his faded jeans and chocolate-brown button-down. "Is it really that bad?"

"A tragedy, honey." Feliks toyed with the thin white stick protruding from his glossy lips, swirling it around thoughtfully. "Needs more pink." He gasped loudly, suddenly flinging himself off the bed and grabbing Toris's hands. "YOU SHOULD LIKE TOTALLY LET ME GIVE YOU A MAKEOVER!" He practically screamed in his face.

"A-A what?" The Lithuanian stammered, even though he had heard him and understood him.

"A makeover!" Feliks beamed, pressing himself close to Toris, batting his big false-eyelashes at him. "Please!? Oh, Liet, once I'm through with you you'll be, like, sooooo fab-u-lous!"

Toris swallowed nervously, unable to breathe with Feliks's face so close to his. The blonde was wearing some kind of floral and apple-scented perfume that left him feeling light-headed and in a daze. Those eyes… Oh God, he couldn't say no to those big, beautiful emerald eyes. "A-All right." He agreed eventually, speaking automatically.

Feliks shrieked with joy, throwing his arms around Toris's neck and planting a glossy kiss on his cheek. "Like, thanks Liet! I'm totes gonna make you the hottest Lithuanian, like, ever! Just leave it to me!"

Toris's face was practically boiling with embarrassment, but he offered a shy smile in return. "O-okay," he agreed with a timid nod. "Should be fun." But inside, he couldn't help but wonder what he was getting himself into.

**A/N:**

**Geez, short chapter. I'm sorry about its lameness; I could have made it better, but I wanted to update this story before people forgot about it.**

**Anyway, like I said, first time writing as any of these characters. How did I do?**

**By the way, I just wanted to mention, there is a reason why Vash is reacting so strongly to the visions and why he is already getting them. Of course, that will come about later, but I'm sure that if you really thought about it you would be able to put it together yourselves. (Hint: Watch the episodes about Lichtenstein and her big brother from season one ^3^)**

**And, good news! Now that all the characters have been introduced, the real plot can finally get started!**


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